


at the end of the road

by euadnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Singer (mentioned) - Freeform, Coda, Dean Winchester Jr (mentioned), Eileen Leahy (mentioned) - Freeform, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Heaven, Jack Kline (mentioned) - Freeform, Soulmates, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euadnes/pseuds/euadnes
Summary: A drive, a cabin, and a conversation. Sam and Dean reunite in heaven and find their final resting place in paradise waiting for them after a long drive.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	at the end of the road

**Author's Note:**

> There were so many different scenarios that ran through my mind in the days after the finale and as much as I wanted to write a alternate ending, like Sam dying on a hunt or giving up before starting a family, etc, I decided that I didn't want to change the ending. Unpopular opinion, maybe? but I love it as it is. Still sad that Dean didn't get to live a life though.  
> I cried at least 10 times writing this so enjoy.

The radio works perfectly, when he chooses to use it. It seems to switch with his mood, as if knowing the exact song he wanted to hear next, each time. Every cassette he ever owned rests in the beat-up shoebox on the floor. Each one is unblemished, every track perfect quality, like he’s hearing them for the first time, fresh out of the plastic. The driver side window no longer gets stuck half way down when he winds it. He can hear a faint rattling in the air vents when he turns the unit on and it makes Dean smile. His baby is perfect in every way.

She still manages the curves of the mountain roads like a dream. He pushes her and pushes her and never manages to overdo it. If he does for a second think he might be going too fast, the road evens out suddenly, like the hairpin turn he’s approaching is just a trick of the light.

He pulls over every so often when he thinks he needs to stretch his legs. Or to just take in the view. The beer in the cooler is always perfectly cool though he never hears ice rattling when he drives. He never stays in one place too long.

The mountain roads he drives are familiar in a nostalgic sort of way. He must’ve traveled every one of them in his previous life. Sometimes the scenery reminds him of the Rockies, like the winding roads they would drive on the way home to bypass Denver. Other times the land is rolling yellow hills, sometimes with snowy peaks in the background that remind him of the Sierras or the Pacific Northwest. He never seems to be able to reach those peaks.

The gas gauge doesn’t work but he hasn’t run out of gas, ever, so he doesn’t think it’s an issue. It’s difficult to tell the passage of time. Sunny days stretch on and on until he thinks about stopping to rest, then all of a sudden, it’s dusk. Sometimes he camps. He never seems to need a tent, instead choosing to lay out a sleeping bag under the stars. He never has a hard time finding an adequate campsite, and when he wakes, his body does not ache from sleeping on the ground. And every morning, he wakes up alone.

Every morning, Dean gets back in the car and drives.

The speedometer never seems to decide on a consecutive number count, so Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been driving when he reaches the bridge. Again, it’s familiar in a vague way, but not remarkably memorable. A wild river rushes below, loud, but not deafening. It gathers his interest enough to stop the car in the middle of the road and get out. It’s not like he has to worry about anyone else on the road. That’s been a big bonus so far.

The sun has lowered behind the walls of the canyon and alpenglow has begun to set in. The woods are bathed in dark hues of green and purple. Not an entirely bad place to take a break.

Not for the first time, he stops and hopes. How nice it would be not to have to watch another sunset alone.

Dean stands with his arms resting on the railing and just takes it in. The place of the sun doesn’t change. Instead, wispy clouds begin to dance over the mountain tops, a rainbow of oranges and pinks. There’s distant birdsong and the crashing of the river against rocks below, but otherwise it’s quiet. Perfectly peaceful, like every other day.

He thought when it finally happened, he would wake up and Sam would be sitting on the hood of the Impala, or he would eventually reach the bunker and walk in and Sam would be waiting for him with open arms. Instead, Dean just feels a small shift in the air. A presence at his back. It could be anyone, really. Jack or Cas at last coming to visit. His parents, though he doubted they would try to find him first.

No. Dean knows just who it is by the way something in his chest finally slots into place.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says softly. He can’t hold back a smile as he turns around.

Sam stands just out of arms reach. Almost bashful in the way his shoulders are hunched over. Hair and dimples just as he remembered, though it’s not like he could ever forget.

His brother looks at him like he can’t believe his eyes. “Dean.” He says, as if saying his name is an affirmation that it’s real. Dean almost can’t believe it himself, except for the fact that he feels truly alive for the first time in days.

He turns until they are standing toe to toe with each other. Sam lip trembles as his face scrunches up but it’s a laugh that comes out, a breathless laugh, and Dean pulls him in. It’s nearly desperate, the way they crash together. Strong arms hold him close and he tucks his face into Sam’s jacket and breathes for the first time in eternity.

\-------

When they finally start to leave, Sam seems almost apprehensive about getting in the car. He trails a hand over the rib of her hood, trailing it to the top of the door frame. His eyes are sad, and Dean is curious, but doesn’t want to pry open that one just yet. His brother settles into the passenger seat but his knees never touch the dashboard. He smiles like a kid as the engine roars to life, breaking the peace around them. Creedence blares through the speakers and Dean laughs. Sam was always a southern rock fan.

Neither of them can stop smiling.

The road narrows after the bridge, turning into an unmarked black stripe that carries them up through the mountains. Dean can’t tell where it’s going to take them. So far, he’s never been on the same road twice, as far as he’s been able to tell. But this is definitely new territory. The road curves around cliff sides, giving them breathtaking views of the pristine forests and rivers beyond.

The sun still hasn’t set but it’s behind them, lighting the sky on fire. They drive with the windows down and the roar of the wind and each other’s jubilant singing in their ears. Dean doesn’t want the road to end, but it eventually does.

Before they know it, the tall pines have closed in around them, forming a sort of covered driveway. Automatically Dean is worried about his baby getting scratched up but they pass through unscathed. The trees open up to a clearing where humble log cabin sits on the edge of a stunning alpine lake. A small meadow surrounds the house and, in the back, Dean can see a deck over the water with chairs. It’s idyllic and peaceful, more than he could ever dream of. A quick glance over to his brother confirms that Sam is thinking the same.

He gets out to grab the cooler from the back on impulse. Surprisingly, Sam waits for him. For the better part of the next few days, he never leaves his side.

The inside is cozier than Dean is used too. An impressive stone fireplace takes up a whole wall, with chairs that don’t look like they’ve been pulled out of a dump and a large couch. There’s also a kitchen that is definitely better than the one in the bunker, albeit smaller, and a few other rooms branching off to the side.

The outside is breathtaking. A single door leads them to the wooden deck, which also extends out as a dock. Dean can see fishing poles and a cooler leaning against the wall, and smiles at the detail, sending a small thank you to whoever could be listening. Sam beckons him to follow and they situate themselves on a swinging bench under a tree nearby, bypassing the large Adirondack chairs by the water’s edge.

The bench rocks as they sit and somehow their feet don’t touch the ground. They sit close, thighs pressed together. Sam’s arm settles behind him, stretched out on the backrest.

They breathe in the silence and relax. Over the crystalline water, the sun has sunk lower, as if it waited for them to reach the cabin before setting into full darkness.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Sam finally murmurs.

“Don’t apologize, Sammy.” It catches him by surprise. Bobby’s words come back to him then. “Time runs a little differently up here. It didn’t feel that long at all.”

His brother nods, and Dean recognizes that face. Sam’s eyebrows are pinched as he looks out over the water, but it’s not the glare from the sun that’s make him squint. He sucks in his check, chews the inside. Dean waits.

“I wanted to - I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“For you, little brother, I could wait as long as you needed me to.

At his words, Sam sucked in a sharp breath.

“This doesn’t even feel real, after all this time-“

“Sam, how long was it for you?” He was concerned from the start, Sam looked the same age he had last seen him, if not a little younger. He was quick to notice how his brother looked less worn and the wisps of gray at his temples had disappeared entirely.

“Thirty-eight years,” Sam says. “Thirty-eight years and almost exactly seven months.”

“Thirty-eight? Years?” Dean responds, shocked. “Man, Bobby wasn’t joking about that time difference.”

Sam’s face scrunches up, confused. Dean can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. "Bobby? What? How long did it feel to you?”

He takes a second to pause and think. “I’m not really sure. Time runs faster here, I think. There’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet.”

There’s no response to that. Dean can tell Sam’s still processing. He shakes his head as he looks back out to the lake.

“Did you have a good life, then? Did you hunt?” Dean prods.

“I did,” Sam says, nodding again. “And I did that, too. Hunted for a while, after... After I burned your body.” All these years later, the memory is still difficult to relive.

“I kept up with Jody and the others. Helped out where I could. Not from the bunker, though. No, I abandoned that place. It wasn’t the same without you there. Too big, too empty. Miracle and I hopped around. Got back with Eileen, eventually. And then, um, we had a son.”

Damn. His kid brother with a baby. A wife. His own family. Dean’s heart swells. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Named him after you.”

That earns him a bark of laughter from Dean. “That’s unfortunate. Poor kid.”

“Dude,” Sam chides him, fond smile falling into place. “But we retired from hunting after Dean was born, just wanted to raise him away from it all, you know?”

Dean nods.

“He’s a good kid. A lot like his uncle, unfortunately.”

“There it is.”

“And his mom.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughs. “Yeah.” They pause. Dean watches his brother smile to himself, remembering his little family with pride.

“You’ll see them again, you know.”

Sam looks at him cautiously. “How do you know?”

“I told you I saw Bobby. Well, apparently with Jack running the show, it’s a whole new theme park. Anyone we knew then, we can see them again, now. Or at least, when they, you know.” He points a finger to the sky.

That pulls a wobbly smile from his brother. “I’d love for you see them. Meet my son.”

“I’d love that, too.” He smiles warmly, nudges his brother in the side. “I’m proud of you, Sammy, you did good.”

They sit and rock some more. Dean settles further into Sam’s side. He thinks about before this, one of them, most likely him, would’ve shrugged off the intimate moment in embarrassment. They’ve come too far, he thinks, been through too much, to not at least enjoy little moments like this.

“I saw Jack, once early on, then near the end,” Sam says eventually.

Dean twists to look at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well he hasn’t come to see me, yet. What happened?”

Sam shifts to reach a foot down far enough to kick the ground again to keep the swing moving. Dean recognizes the distraction for what it is. Sam’s uncomfortable with something.

“Well I prayed to him. I had been for a while, but I think he knew when it was my time.”

“And?”

“I wanted to make sure you were here, safe. He confirmed it, I think, only to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid after you died. He said you were happy.”

“He was right.”

“Have you seen Mom and Dad?”

“No, not yet.” _I was looking for you this whole time,_ goes unsaid.

That gets a curious look from his brother.

“We can see them anytime we want. We have all the time, literally, in the universe.”

Sam chuckles. “I guess we do.”

\-------

Later on, they’re in the kitchen. As expected, there’s plenty of supplies in the fridge for a few of their favorite things. Not that they need to eat, but the thought of a steaming hot burger awakens such a strong craving in Dean, he can’t not cook it. Sam gets a fire going and they eat beside it.

When they’ve finished dinner, Sam begins to tell him about his life. How raising Jack gave him the confidence to become a father. How he and Eileen waited until Dean Jr. was old enough to know about the things that go bump in the night, but he was never forced into the life they both had suffered through. They taught him just enough so that one day he could protect himself, if he needed to. Instead, Sam’s son played football and video games. He loved history and science fiction movies and really bad, in Sam’s opinion, rock music. How he was smarter than he let on most times and was working on a master’s degree when Sam eventually died of heart failure. How he had the biggest heart, bigger than anyone he ever knew, just like his mom. And his uncle, who Sam always told stories about, from the time he was a baby all the way up until his death. Even when it hurt the most, like around late January or when Dean Jr. would ask about the big black car in the garage that his father would sit in sometimes yet never drove. Sam would tell him, sometimes laughing fondly, sometimes crying, about his brother who saved the world.

They talk for what must be hours. Dean wants to hear it all. He could happily listen to Sam talk about every goddamn, mundane day he ever lived.

All thirty-eight years’ worth of days. It strikes him that Sam lived nearly as long without him as he did when Dean was alive.

“I wish that you could’ve shared it with me, Dean.” Sam says eventually. The world outside the cabin windows is still pitch black and full of glittering stars. “It’s not fair that I got to have that life, and you didn’t.”

Dean sighs. He thinks back on that night. The fear he had initially, the feeling of heartbreak from Sam having to see him go that way, and the encompassing love he held for him. Then eventually, the relief.

“It was my time,” he simply says.

Sam scoffs.

“No, no. Hear me out,” he shifts on the couch, gets turned around so that Sam can see him fully. “I wasn’t gonna stop hunting, man. Getting taken out was the only way it was gonna go down in the end. Don’t say I’m wrong.”

“Dean, I saw the job application on your desk.”

“That was gonna be something on the side. I wanted to have a job to make some honest money for once, if that’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted?” Sam asks, emotionally charged. “I wanted you _alive._ You should’ve told me you had other stuff lined up! I would’ve passed that vamp case on to someone else. I – I would’ve –“

Dean reaches out for his brother then, links their hands together and smiles, soft and true. “It couldn’t have been prevented. Let it go, Sammy.”

Sam’s hand jerks in his, fingers squeezing tight. “I can’t. I never could.” He’s crying now, just like when Dean saw him last in that barn. “There wasn’t a single day when I didn’t think of you, Dean. Not a single day went by where I didn’t miss you.”

Telltale heat rises behind Dean’s eyes. He lets the tears fall because what do they have to hide anymore, here at the end of it all. Thinks, _fuck it,_ and tugs at Sam until he’s nearly in his lap, arms coming around each other in a desperate hug. Sam sighs and lets himself go in his brother’s arms. There’s not a lot for him to mourn anymore. He did that for nearly forty years, knowing that one day he would have this moment at last.

It shouldn’t be comfortable, the clinginess and the way Sam’s knee is digging into Dean’s thigh and his back is twisted at an odd angle, but they make it work. Dean runs a hand over his brother’s hair and presses his mouth firmly on his head once, then again.

After a minute he can’t help himself. “Even my jokes?”

Sam shakes in his arms, laughing. “I think I would’ve done just about anything to hear one of your dumb jokes, yes. Also, you’re the worst.”

“You love me,” he teases.

Suddenly Sam clings harder. He breathes deep, then releases him. Sits up real close so he can look Dean in the eye, hair sticking up and runny nose that Dean has the urge to wipe with his sleeve.

“I do, and I never said it back. I love you, too, Dean, more than anything.”

He gives a watery grin. “I know, baby brother.” Quiet, throat stuck. His heart clenches and swells. “I know.”

\-------

Dean died at night in a dark, dingy barn in the late fall. Every night since, he’s been alone. This is his first with company. Fitting that it’s with the person he did it all, and would do it again for, a hundred times over. He meant it when he told Sam he would wait for an eternity. To have this, a quiet place with a view, a place of their very own. _Peace_. Isn’t that what they lived and fought for all those years? The ride might not have been perfect, but in the end they did in fact make it theirs. Sam beat the odds and got his normal life, his house and dog and a legacy to live on after them. No destiny, no man behind the curtain.

Dean’s had plenty of time to look back on that last night. The first real hunt since Chuck’s downfall. They had been so cocksure about taking down those vamps. The lighthearted conversation at the weapon’s cache, the throwing stars. Sam rolling his eyes at him under the streetlight. Both of them ready to get the night over with and celebrate with a beer.

They had been outnumbered two to one. Nothing they couldn’t handle usually. And then that cranky bitch with the decades old revenge plot. Jesus, it was nearly a cake walk for them.

No man behind the curtain.

Dean should’ve remembered that part.

He should’ve noticed something was off before Sam was knocked out with just a single punch to the head. It should’ve rung clear as a bell when they were getting tossed around like rag dolls. But by the time he landed on that rebar, it was too late for regrets.

Dean’s death was his own fault, his own carelessness. But at least it was his own.

Sitting here with his equal, the only person he cared for more than his own well-being, Dean’s made peace with that. They were always going to end up here, one way or another. What better way than the one they made? There was no one else to decide that for them. Just Dean. Just Sam. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Real quick - I wasn't a huge Saileen fan at the beginning but honestly the whole arc of bringing her back doesn't make sense if she isn't endgame for Sam. Also I want to read alllll the headcanons about Sam's life and his son. The more I think about it, the more I love that he had that chance.  
> Feel free to keysmash into the comments or leave anything else. I'll just be over here crying.  
> ❤❤❤  
> Find me on tumblr: spectralsam.tumblr.com  
> I need to follow more people that actually liked the finale lmao


End file.
